


Got a light?

by Jimbertforever



Category: Led Zeppelin
Genre: M/M, Sexual Experimentation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:06:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7242481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimbertforever/pseuds/Jimbertforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not mine! Couldn't contact the author! Hope you enjoyed the read ^_^</p></blockquote>





	Got a light?

Two A.M. was a naked time of the morning, when the air was the coolest, the wind was the most frigid, and the stillness was unbearable. Jimmy's eyes fluttered open almost reluctantly, his hand groping about in the darkness for the light-switch to his bedside lamp. Click. Nothing. The power had obviously gone out at some point in the night. Jimmy's questioning look was buried in darkness as he found his way to the other side of the room and retrieved a flashlight belonging to the hotel from one of the drawers of the bureau. Click. And light. He almost seemed disappointed at the sudden burst of sight he had in his room, alone, with the wind howling through the trees outside.

A thud was heard next door easily through the door conjoining his and Robert's room, followed by a low cursing and the sound of a bag zipping.

Jimmy smirked to himself inwardly. Turning the flashlight off, he opened the end and slid the batteries into his hand and disposed of them in the trash bin. He rapped his knuckles against the door lightly a few times. One, two, three.

The door was open, and despite the lack of sight due to lack of flashlights, Jimmy could make out Robert's dandelion-coloured curls. 'He really is a golden god,' he thought to himself with an inward smile, and almost chuckled at how cliché it sounded.

"Pagey--?"

"Got a light?" Jimmy inquired, waving his "dead" flashlight in front of Robert. The blond paused for a moment, as if taking everything into careful consideration before clicking his torch on and shining the light directly into Jimmy's face.

"Of all people, I thought you'd be able to see in the dark."

Jimmy chuckled, squinting his eyes at the offending light. "Do you have any extra batteries?"

"Don't think so."

"What time is it?"

"Two."

"Ugh. I'm wide awake now."

"Me too," Robert said, shrugging as if it would solve something, and retreated to his bed, sitting on the edge.

"Why's the power out anyway?"

"Twenty questions?"

"Not a chance," Jimmy beamed.

Robert returned it, his cheeks practically cracking in the darkness, for reasons not even he knew. "Uhm... rain? The storm was worse earlier, I think. A branch all but attacked the window closest to my bed" -- he gestured towards it -- "so I woke up maybe twenty minutes ago and just... eh, whatever."

"You high?"

"Yeah," Robert giggled.

"I see."

"I'm surprised you slept through the storm, Pagey."

Jimmy shrugged, taking the flashlight from Robert. "So," he began as he flitted with the flashlight, turning it off and on and leaving his sentence open-ended.

"So." Well, that didn't help.

"What now?"

"Dunno. Wanna spoon?" Jimmy blinked in surprise. "There's nothing else to do and I'm bored as hell. And cold." Robert pouted.

The guitarist blushed, and then Robert stole the flashlight back and shone the light in his face to catch the rose-tinted cheeks in the yellow glow. Jimmy fumbled to hide his blush, managing to do so in creating a curtain out of his hair. Robert chuckled lightheartedly. The blond fell back onto the mattress, flashlight in the hand farthest away from Jimmy, who watched him, then mimicked his actions.

"So." Again

"So." Jimmy said it as if it were an end to their conversation.

There was the low rumble of thunder heard out in the distance, and the blond smiled yet again. "Looks like it's not over yet."

"Hm," Jimmy nodded.

"Hm."

"Hm, indeed."

"Heehee."

Silence again.

"This seems a tad awkward. Why's that?"

Jimmy shrugged. "Dunno. 'S there something you'd like to say to make it less awkward?"

"I need a shower." As if that were a decent conversation starter.

Jimmy laughed aloud. "You do," he concurred. "You reek of B.O. and booze."

"Not like you don't know the smell, Pagey," Robert giggled, almost giddily.

Another silence.

"Gimme a fag, Percy."

"Hm?"

"C'mon." A grin.

A little bit and Robert had retrieved the fag and lit it. He gave Jimmy a mischievous grin and said, "Hey, let's shotgun."

"Do what?" Jimmy blinked in surprise. Spooning? Shot-gunning? What next...?

"Why?"

"'Cause I don't have much left." Robert responded, waving the tiny joint in front of Jimmy's face.

One way or another, Jimmy ended up missing his shirt. His pants were halfway down his thighs and his underwear still hung loosely around his bony hips. Robert was busy unbuttoning his shirt hastily. Somehow they both knew shotgunning would lead to this. Somehow they felt it was only inevitable before they began sleeping together, rolling around in bed, fucking each other senseless. The fans had probably seen it coming, too; all of the suggestive looks, the stage interaction during shows, the casual touching, invading each other's personal space, popping their personal bubbles.

Robert's language had been downgraded to a system of whiny moans and grunts. Jimmy was trying to articulate himself enough to fiddle with the buttons and zipper of the blond's pants, but his hands were far too shaky. He tried to steady himself, tried to think that if this was so "inevitable," why was he so nervous? Or maybe he was excited. He couldn't tell. All he knew was that he wanted Robert and he wanted him now. He ran his shaking hands through his hair in an attempt to steady them as his eyes darted from his partner's pants to his face, pants, face, get that goddamned button undone, those gorgeous eyes. His breathing was coming through in little huffs, quick bursts, like their actions. Robert pulled his shirt open and practically ripped it off of his arms in one swift motion, then it was slow, running a hand down Jimmy's cheek, slow and steady, right? Then he abandoned that lovely pale skin and went to work at his pants, seeing as Jimmy was becoming far too nervous--excited? He certainly felt excited; the tent formed by his boxers told him that quite well.

Once Robert's pants were unbuttoned, Jimmy was able to pull the zipper down, slip his hands inside, touch what he wanted. Robert leaned down as if for a kiss but ducked to the side and licked Jimmy's neck with a high-pitched groan. He began thrusting against Jimmy's hands, latching onto his neck, sucking. I'm going to have a mark there later. No. As far as the others are concerned... a curling iron mistake? Who the fuck cared? He sure didn't.

Jimmy adopted Robert's fast and furious then slow and steady method, yanking Robert's pants and underwear down quickly, followed by his own, and kicked them off. Robert did the same, and then came the slow part as the guitarist examined his partner.

But wait. What if one of them started freaking out? Maybe this was just a sexual need on their parts. Maybe they were only using each other for a night since there weren't any groupies around. Maybe if one of them started freaking out, they could... chock it all up to the pot? Little did they know that they were both thinking that but at the same time, both hoping that this was more sincere than it appeared to be. There certainly wasn't much talking going on.

Robert pulled back from Jimmy's neck, admired the rather dark mark he'd left behind, then traveled south, over Jimmy's pale chest, running his fingers along his ribs, down his sides, following the light dusting of chest hair down to a forest of black, where he took the guitarist into his mouth as far as he could. He gagged once, then pulled back a little. Somehow the realization that not everyone could deep-throat hit him a little harder than it should have, but Jimmy didn't seem to care. A boney hand found its way to the singer's golden curls, gripping them gingerly as Robert began bobbing his head.

"Lube," Jimmy heard Robert say suddenly. It was the most he'd heard him say since their first kiss that night.

"Wha--?"

"I'm not fucking you dry, Pagey." Robert gave him a look like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jimmy groaned. He needed more attention down there. Now.

"Mmh. Check the bathroom for some lotion."

Robert got up and went into the bathroom, flinging open the cupboard under the sink, pulling wash-clothes and fluffy towels out in his search. Jimmy tried his damnedest not to touch himself, not even one stroke. He knew that what he was going to get would be much more satisfying than anything he could ever do on his own. Robert emerged after another minute or so with a tiny bottle of complimentary lotion and scrambled back into the bed. Jimmy was rubbing his face with his hands, running them through his hair, anything to busy himself, anything to stop thinking about touching himself. Robert applied some of the lotion to his fingers and rubbed them together in a feeble attempt to warm it up. He situated himself between Jimmy's legs and Jimmy spread them wider, putting himself at the most vulnerable state he could. The blond slid one finger in slowly, experimenting with how far it could go in before Jimmy hissed his reluctant disapproval, and then began pulling out, putting in two fingers, scissoring them back and forth. Jimmy was biting at his fist to keep from screaming in both frustration and pain. Robert didn't look up; he couldn't. Another fast and slow movement occurred; Robert pulled back both fingers and pushed three in and paused. Slow now, he thought, and looked up at Jimmy then. He'd expected to have hit his partner's prostate with that thrust, but apparently he didn't. Jimmy's face was twisted in pain, laced with doubt. Did he really want it? With all this? But Jimmy opened his glassy eyes and looked at Robert, gasping. He nodded hurriedly to keep going, then averted his eyes again.

A pillow was dragged from the other end of the bed and Robert tossed it to Jimmy as he flipped him over onto his stomach. The guitarist gripped the pillow tightly and got on his knees, waiting for Robert to push in, and he did. This, however, was slow, no fast action at first this time. Jimmy opened his mouth like he was going to scream, but nothing came out. He knew it was going to be worth it, or at least that's what he kept telling himself. Robert pushed all the way in and waited for Jimmy's muscles to stop spasming and convulsing. He bit his lip, pulling out, then pushing back in. Go slow, he thought. You've gotta go slow. He pushed back in, trying slightly different angles, determined to find Jimmy's sweet spot so he didn't have to feel like he was going through Hell right now. He pulled out and pushed back in again, and felt himself brush against something that made Jimmy go wild. He moaned Robert's name, practically screamed it, and the singer knew he could pick up the pace now, thrusting against that same spot repeatedly until Jimmy was screaming so loud, he was sure someone was going to come knocking, telling them to shut the flying fuck up.

A glint of mischievous planning shot through Jimmy's eyes as he waited for Robert to pull out again, then reached behind himself and pushed the blond back. Robert gave him a "what-the-bloody-fuck" look before Jimmy's dominant side began to rear its head. He pushed Robert down onto the bed on his back and straddled his hips. He slowly pushed himself down onto Robert's cock, his hands pinning his partner's shoulders down. Robert had tried to get up, but Jimmy shoved him back down again with an almost haunting smirk. He began to move up, then down again, riding the singer as hard as he could. The headboard of their bed began banging against the wall boisterously, and Jimmy was screaming again, but this time, it was, "Percy... Percy...!"

Robert began with, "Pagey!" in a high-pitched squeak. Jimmy was whimpering his name every time he pushed himself down onto Robert, getting louder and louder as he reached climax. He wrapped a pale hand around his own cock and began stroking himself in time with the rhythm they had established. Robert's hands gripped Jimmy's hips tightly, possessively. Jimmy's orgasmic jabber had come to include the words "fuck," "yes," and "shit" as Robert's was still stuck on screaming, "Pagey, Pagey, Pagey."

That headboard sounded like it was going to break through the wall once Jimmy's orgasm hit him like a tumbling brick wall. His cum covered Robert's chest and his muscles convulsed and spasmed again, Robert finally hit his as well, thrusting up into Jimmy as he came soon after.

Jimmy sat there on Robert for a while afterward, allowing himself to catch his breath, and looked down at Robert slowly, as if realizing what they had just done. Jimmy had just rode Robert like no groupie ever could have, and they had made one hell of a noisy racket whilst doing it. They'd just had sex. Jimmy Page and Robert Plant fucking each other's brains out; the realization shot itself through Jimmy's head like a bullet. He pushed himself up and off of Robert, collapsing next to him in a panting heap. Robert looked at him questioningly, still catching his breath. What would be the consequences of this? Nobody could know. Maybe they'd never do it again. Maybe they really only did need to do it just this once, just once because they were dealing with sexual frustration, or experimenting out of curiosity. Yeah, maybe. Maybe they should both just stop thinking and get some damned sleep.

And all this started because Jimmy thought it'd be a good idea to throw away the batteries to his flashlight, just to flirt with Robert for a bit.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine! Couldn't contact the author! Hope you enjoyed the read ^_^


End file.
